Slender
by Mintwafflez
Summary: When all that is left is desperation. Mild Corset Piercing play. - Prussia/Spain.


**Slender**

I have nothing to say about this one.

* * *

His shirt was hiked, the pale fabric caught and hosted on the tips of the Spaniard's fingers. Antonio's pads trailed over the curve of his muscle, one hand firmly tangled in the albino's troublesome shirt as he explored in wondrous awe. He teased Prussia's right nipple between two digits, but his hungry eyes lingered elsewhere with his focus.

"That looks…" he trailed away and Gilbert took it as a good sign, chuckling sharply as his fingers continued to roam over his chest. Spain had words for it, sure, but he couldn't get them to roll off of his tongue. The former nation looked ridiculous, but the heat in his groin seemed to beg different. The lacing was bright crimson, a shade to match his wild eyes with symmetry across the median of his chest. He seemed to be wrapped up like a present, ready for someone willing to force him open and consume.

He wondered what it would take to get Romano to try something like this for him and he thought about it long enough that his hand had stopped moving, ring finger hooked under one tight span of ribbon as his mind drew sinful blanks. Prussia clicked his tongue, the sharp rap as his oral piercing smacked against the crown of his front teeth. "Hurts like a son of a bitch, but nothing my awesome couldn't handle."

That was true, for in the lap of Spain, Prussia was posed, legs spread dangerously as he arched. One of his own hands was playing with the silk bow attached to his left side – he was pierced, the corset design like wayward rail road tracks up each side of his rib cage.

Gilbert had no more patience of this lustful daze, deeply aroused for some reason even though they really hadn't gotten much further into the room other than the edge of the bed and only been there long enough for him to glide forward and straddle the other nation. He slid his hand upwards, griping the brunette's wrist. The former nation had the idea for ages, so maybe it was the work of his imagination that had brought him so far with the idea of someone playing with his lacing, unwrapping him for all their own. He pulled Antonio's hand upwards and took his shirt along for the ride, the clothing breaking free and sliding over his head without protest.

Actually, it seemed Spain was having the most conflict. His fingers just traced, calloused pads from years of working with the tomatoes tormenting as they glided in easy circles around each wound and the stud placed there. He laughed, caught between wanting to play with the intricate piercings and asking if the former country was right out of his mind.

"They're temporary, but like fuck that, not like if they get infected they can kill me I said," he explained, leaning backwards so the Spaniard could take him all in again, the length of his torso and the ripple of muscles honed from years at war. The utterly sexy length of lace that was binding him to himself. He managed to make his judgement and nuzzled Prussia's face, pressing a rough kiss to the skin below his ear lobe. He accepted it and laughed, arching again to press his chest into the other's. "You got too much clothing on man, but I know my awesome stuns some people."

"Gilbert, wait, you're sure this does not hurt? I don't want to do this if you are in pain, that's not what I do-" The Spaniard was cut off as Prussia made way into his pants, somehow already discarding his belt and flicking the fly of his jeans all the way down. Dammit. "You're not listening to me, _friend_."

His hands were moving and Antonio groaned, trying to keep from bucking his hips and pressing against the Prussian's palm in anyway he could. He didn't even have his pants _off _yet, son of a bitch. They were good, apparently he had some skill in this, and the Spanish man couldn't take it, allowing Gilbert to play with him as he pleased. And that he did. God, that he did. The brunette arched, tangling his fingers around the back of the other man's head, pulling his forward into his chest as he tried to ride higher.

The former personification of Prussia laughed, his moist breath pressing through his shirt as he dragged his teeth over the cloth and pulled out the first few buttons barricading him from Spain's tanned skin beneath. Both their hands grew a little more needy and from above him the other scolded gently, "Lovi got me this shirt, please do not ruin it, friend."

He gathered Spain's hands in his own, prying them gently from his untamed hair. Slowly, cautiously, teasingly, he lifted the man's fingers to his lips and traced his tongue on each finger pad in turn and Antonio practically _melted_, wondering how on earth his companion had ever learned what turned him on in such a way. He was about to ask for him to forget that, there was something else that was rising to greater attention when his hands were plunged downward, wet with Prussia's spit and slid haphazardly under the lacy ribbon. Antonio flinched and snapped his eyes open, searching with his emerald orbs. Gilbert was already out of sight, head bunched down in his lap.

He'd almost forgotten _he was not okay with this. _The brunette fumbled, groped blindly for Prussia's hands while trying not to tangle his fingers as he unhooked them from the red lace, _no, no more,_ and finally found them when they were busy leaving greedy bruises on his hips.

"G-Gilbert," he warned, his lips parched in both anticipation and complete loss. The albino wasn't listening however, pushing his shirt backwards and away from his torso with those ghosting fingers and how wasn't that ironic because _he wasn't supposed to exist anymore_, and oh god, his mouth was back again, his nose nuzzling the rim of Spain's naval.

Antonio was ready to try again, his hands useless even when he tugged and strained on Prussia's hair, fingers digging in the back of his neck, he just kept knocking them away and relocating them on those _damn_ piercings. He felt exposed, the cool air teasing as he was released from his underwear, even though his jeans were still firmly seated around his ass.

Romano liked the way he was toned and shaped, the way he had one of those freckled beauty marks too light and beautiful to be a mole on the small of his back. He swallowed hard, pressing his eye lids together. He couldn't bring himself to do this, betray him like that, but Prussia was already taking him, seeming to swallow him whole.

He gripped the quilt and leaned backwards, straining his shoulders as he tried not to scream, no, no, someone might hear them. And then he realized it was only the walls, and they never tattle, and he moaned, deep and throaty. Gilbert broke away and kissed them with sticky lips and he felt ashamed, tasting himself. He hadn't even come yet but he felt dastardly dirty.

"Prussia," he muttered, jerking his torso far enough back their kiss broke, leaving the other like some sort of godly statue. The Prussian leaned in to capture him again, hands already going to work but he snapped his jaw shut, shaking his head as he tried to regain his breath again. "N-No. Why? Why did you do this-"

He was ignoring him again, he could see it in his eyes, amongst the red and all the lust. He found that tender spot again on his abdomen and was tracing it, letting his finger glide and dip. Finding the crevices of muscle and worshiping them with feathery satisfaction. Catching himself being lost, trapped almost, he reached up and grabbed Gilbert's jaw, and he would of been crushing bone if anyone else.

Prussia felt the power throb in his mouth a froze, jerking away easily as Spain's fingers slid away. He got the message, quick and easy. Fuck, fuck it all to hell. He grabbed his shirt off the floor, tugging it down harshly and ignoring the red spots that blossomed as he reached down again, stepping into his converse despite his socks being somewhere else in the room. "What ever, what the fucking ever, see me do something nice for a person and watch me get cock blocked doing it."

"Gilbert, my friend," he caught quickly, almost dashing after him out the door before remembering to tuck himself back in, the mood effectively killed. That's what he wanted though, wasn't it? Spain pulled his shirt back up over his shoulders and ran, chased after the retreating sound of Prussia's soles on the hard wood flooring that lined the hallways of his home. He was standing in the kitchen by the back door that peeked over the garden, show cased the ripened tomatoes in late summer and framed the rainy weather when lucky enough to receive it.

His shirt was off again, resting on the table and inside the empty bowl that usually show cased the most perfect, sun kissed flowers he could find. Lovino had tossed them out as he scooted through the door, flushing out and over as he was promised a romantic flower hunt in the morning to replace the wilted ones when he showed up again, like he always did.

Antonio flinched as something metallic sounding his the floor and skittered across it, leaving a glittering trail. And he watched again as he pulled another loop out, tossing it onto the floor and letting it leave a path of blood across the otherwise flawless flooring. "Stop it," he growled, surprised, as he approached. Prussia was paying him no heed, just picking the studs out one by one and discarding them with little interest. Not like it would kill him, just as he said.

"Gilbert!" he practically screeched, trapping his wrist with in his own. Prussia jerked and caught him in the face with a back swing, but he held tight, jaw set in a firm line. He didn't melt, didn't do anything romantic or womanly like that, he just turned and stared and Spain practically felt his heart break into two. ".. if you are lonely, my friend, there is better ways to achieve what you want."

He let the man go, and took a few steps back, rolling from heel to toe. Antonio bent down and collected the few studs scattered on his floor, ignoring the flesh and the blood collected on them. He placed them on the counter and grabbed the dish rag from the median, soaking it as the tap broke the silence sitting in the house. "Venga aquí, ahora, amigo."

While Antonio was kind, the lightest hearted of his friends, he knew what wrong he was in for taking advantage of that, and he knew the tone even when he spoke an outside language. He chose his own tongue when he didn't want to be lost in translation. He swallowed hard but kept his pride, chin held high as he moved over, walking a loop around the mess he'd created on the floor. Spain beckoned him up onto the counter, gesturing for him to sit on the flawless marble and that he did, legs just long enough his toes barely graced the floor.

"There's a proper way and a bad way, no?" the Spaniard questioned, twisting one of the small silver knobs connecting the pieces. The former country nodded, setting his jaw firm as the brunette pressed the wash rag to wounds created when he ripped them straight out, scaring be damned. To his surprise, but maybe not really, Antonio laughed and began to remove them from his skin, gentle as he tried to nurse them out with the least amount of pain possible.

"You know this is love too, right?" he asked, a man of many questions now. He was still grinning, almost ear to ear as Gilbert flushed over, laughing something dastardly of his own.

"Yeah, yeah, just shut up and get this cleaned up before the tomato brat shows up for his morning butt call."

"Hey now, friend..." but it was all in good nature, and Prussia relaxed, hanging his head to watch the other man work. His world had never been small, never small at all.


End file.
